


And Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

by SociopathicArchangel



Series: i didn't realize this was a sad occasion [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociopathicArchangel/pseuds/SociopathicArchangel
Summary: coda to Brother Minein which Carlos meets Kevin in the Desert Otherworld, and finds that he is indeed more relaxed, and starts to wonder





	

There are several things Carlos utilizes to get around life in Night Vale: science, coffee, more science, and instinct. As a rule in the scientific community, instincts aren’t trusted unless they can be scientifically proven to be correct; but Night Vale cannot be scientifically proven to be correct, so that sort of cancels out. Thus, Carlos – who in the majority of his life has followed plenty of his gut feelings and yielded satisfactory results – happily trusts his instincts, even if they sometimes don’t make sense, to lead him to a truth or a thing of interest.

Staring at Kevin, his gut instinct fills out _Palmer_ for a last name and he has a hard time trying not to laugh in mixed hysteria and nervousness.

Cecil has never mentioned a blood brother, nor have Abby or Steve Carlsberg. It is also entirely possible that Kevin is Cecil’s double, or at least somebody who looks (too much) like him, or that it’s just general Night Vale-Desert Bluffs weirdness at work. Carlos has seen doubles in Night Vale, Carlos has seen people from Desert Bluffs with names too close to the people in Night Vale and somehow sharing a few physical attributes despite not being related, Carlos has seen genetics lose meaning in Night Vale.

But still, staring at Cecil’s face (mangled and scarred and stretched as it may be) and Cecil’s hair (although it is drier and somehow looks _sharper_ instead of Cecil’s soft batwing curls) and having them belong to a man named Kevin, Carlos’ instinct says that it’s not Night Vale weirdness or doubles or genetics-that’s-not-really-genetics-and-your-offspring-just-appeared-out-of-thin-air. And Carlos stops his instinct right there, because the other options that are in the very bottom of the list, not even a footnote but something scribbled so indistinctively it’s just a smudge of ink on the paper, is something he does not want to think about.

It’s easy with Kevin’s eyes (or rather, the lack of it) meeting his when they’re talking, and he can remember that this isn’t Cecil or is anyone related to Cecil.

Still, when Kevin’s having a good day and is accommodating to the children of the masked warriors, telling them stories and gesturing and laughing and looking after them, he can’t help but think of _Big Brother_ and _Sibling_ and _Family_ and _Cecil._

When Kevin puts the children to sleep and half-whispers, “Good night, Ce…” before trailing off and looking confused, Carlos looks away and tries his best to forget it.

* * *

 

Carlos wakes up.

It’s not very easy to sleep on hard desert floor, even with the fur blankets that the masked warriors have given him. The brain is wired to stay vigilant in an unfamiliar place after all.

He closes his eyes and wakes up again and again before he gives up and just stares at the sky. It’s still in the very early stages of dawn, with the sky dark blue and only the very edge of it starting to stain with a deep red orange.

There’s a rustle a few ways off and he turns his head.

Kevin is sitting up.

He’s sitting up like he was in the process of trying to get up, but then stopped halfway, body freezing. He’s still. Very still. And he’s staring at the slow sunrise like it’ll stop if he breathes.

Carlos watches him. Kevin doesn’t move until the sun is completely up. And then he yawns and stretches like a cat and rubs his eyes. He falters then, breathing in a gasp, and looks back at the sunrise. Carlos thinks he’s shocked.

He stares at his hands and then back at the sunrise before he takes in a deep breath and climbs back under his blankets.

Carlos closes his eyes too and turns away. He’s able to sleep then. But not without hearing Kevin cry.

* * *

 

Kevin spaces out sometimes, Carlos notices.

He looks at the sky and at the sun, _straight_ into the sun, for such a long time that Carlos is surprised he hasn’t gone blind. And he has no eyes, so how does that even work?

They both ride on the masked warriors, because their legs are too small to catch up. Carlos still keeps his distance, of course, but it’s curious, watching Kevin. He’s not as bad as Carlos had thought. The way Cecil had described him, and the way he had sounded on the radio – even his voice is different, really. Less fake-sweet. More…subdued. Softer, somehow. More soothing. He can see why Kevin is the Voice of Desert Bluffs.

Kevin has yet to talk to him though. The only people he talks to are the children, and sometimes the adult masked warriors, but only if he really needs to. He stays out of Carlos’ way.

Carlos still catches him waking up in the morning, staring at the sunrise, and then crying himself to sleep again. Sometimes, Carlos sees him hug his knees to his chest and bury his face in them, rocking back and forth, whisper-hissing, _“I don’t remember I don’t remember I don’t remember oh god Cecil I’m sorry.”_

Carlos turns away then. Stamps down the thought that’s been niggling in the back of his head since his gut came up with it.

Instead he entertains the idea of Kevin having been brainwashed by Strexcorp. A lot of people were brainwashed, Carlos had seen it. A lot of his crew had been taken, and the rest had been killed. He was lucky enough to have gotten out. There were Strexcorp employees who had pure black eyes as well, smiling like their faces were permanently frozen, and their lips were stretched so wide the skin broke and bled.

Kevin doesn’t have eyes though. He cries, and Carlos doesn’t know if he has tears. The other employees had eyes, but they were just black. Maybe the pupil was somehow modified. That would certainly explain the whole ‘light’ thing going on with Strex. The amount of light in an encompassing pupil must be blinding.

But they took his eyes out. Why did they take his eyes out?

_“I’m sorry Cecil I’m sorry Cecil what did I do”_

Carlos turns over and sleeps.

* * *

 

The first thing Kevin says to him is, “How is Cecil?”

Carlos is so startled that he drops his phone. He’s been fiddling with it, trying to get it sync its time with Cecil’s so that their calls wouldn’t get so jumbled, but he’s not having much progress.

Kevin is standing in front of him, one leg limping, the injury still not fully healed from when he was thrown into the Desert Otherworld.

“I – what?” Carlos looks back at his phone, then at Kevin, then gathers enough of himself to pick up his phone and put it back in his pocket.

“How is Cecil?”

Carlos frowns in confusion. There’s nothing on Kevin’s face to suggest malice. He just looks…tired. He’s not smiling, which, whew, and Carlos can see the broken skin starting from the edges of his lips up to cheeks, still starting to heal. It’s never been properly set, and it needs stitches, but there’s not a lot of sterilized materials in here, and all of the things the masked warriors have are too big.

Besides, the giants are more for fighting, not for mending.

“He’s…fine,” Carlos says.

Kevin nods.

He moves forward to sit, but stops and turns back, then dithers. Carlos looks at his face and takes pity on him.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh.” Kevin scratches his cheek lightly. “No, it’s fine, just…” His face contorts as he deliberates. “H-how…how has he been since – since he’s been the Voice of Night Vale?”

Carlos frowns. “I haven’t been in Night Vale that long.”

“Oh,” Kevin says, “How long have you been in Night Vale?”

Carlos mulls over the disadvantages of telling Kevin. He figures they’re stuck in the Desert Otherworld for a very long time. “Two years.”

Kevin nods again. “That’s enough. How is he?”

Carlos’ eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“I want to…know,” Kevin falters at the last word. He looks down. “Actually, forget I said anything.”

He starts to walk away. Carlos stares at his back, shoulders sagged and defeated and his heart beats, _brother brother brother_ and he can’t do this to _Cecil’s brother_ and he says, “Wait!”

Kevin takes two seconds before he registers that Carlos has called him and turns around.

“He announced my arrival to Night Vale, the day I arrived,” he says, “He said I had perfect hair and teeth like a military cemetery.”

Kevin’s lips twitch up in a smile. The movement is a little horrid with the broken skin, but Carlos can see it’s genuine. “Yeah?” He can see that talking hurts Kevin a lot too, with his wounds.

He talks instead. He tells Kevin of Night Vale and of Cecil, and in the morning, Kevin doesn’t wake up to see the sunrise, and he doesn’t cry.

* * *

 

“I think I have three sets of memories.”

Kevin’s words are slow and a little muffled, but Carlos understands them easily. He’s taken the job of stitching the wounds on Kevin’s cheeks together, after asking the masked warriors to manufacture their equipment just a little smaller for the both of them. They wounds are healing fine, but Kevin insists on talking to him, even though it’s painful, and it pulls at his wounds sometimes.

“Three sets?”

“Mmm. Before, Desert Bluffs, Strexcorp. Muddied together. Don’t know what’s real,” Kevin says, clipping his words to speak faster.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember…home,” Kevin says. He looks down and plays with his bloodied, tattered sleeve. “Night Vale. Mom. Abby. Cecil.”

Carlos nods. He’s long worked this out and long come to terms that this is Cecil’s brother.

“Warned Cecil. I warned Cecil.”

“About?”

“The light.”

Carlos pulls up memories on the Smiling God and its light, and the fanaticism of Strexcorp of it.

“Mom knew too. She Saw too. I got it from her,” Kevin says.

“That’s why they took your eyes,” Carlos says, and immediately wants to swallow the words back.

Kevin nods, and brushes his fingers over the skin beneath his eyesockets. “T’was never about physical sight.”

“And you can still…See, despite your lack of eyes.”

“That’s what I do. I See, Cecil Speaks,” he says, “But they turned me into a Voice too.” He pauses to gather his breath.

“You can talk later, when your mouth’s healed.”

“The light wanted Cecil,” Kevin says, “He was prophesied to be the Voice of Night Vale. His influence was…wide. He…” Kevin slows down, swallows, breathes. “Hurts.”

“It’s okay, Kevin, stop talking for a while,” Carlos says, putting a hand on the former radio host’s shoulder.

Kevin steadies his breaths for a few minutes before continuing, much slower this time. “He was the perfect…vessel. His…words. Would shape a town,” he pauses again, “I…warned…him.”

Carlos nods and drops his hand. Kevin’s clearly not going to stop.

“I don’t think I made it clear enough,” he says. “The light was persistent. It nearly took him. It was in a mirror.”

Mirrors. Carlos remembers. Cecil has an aversion towards mirrors. He never looks at his reflection if he can help it.

“I…pushed him aside,” Kevin says, “Took his place.”

Carlos’ hands weaken. “The light got you instead.”

Kevin nods.

“As a – what was the term you used – a vessel?”

“The Smiling God is an entity that cannot interact with a world directly,” Kevin says, mouth exaggeratedly moving to make the sounds. He’s still not stopping. “Not easily, anyway. The easiest would be to find someone who straddles the line between reality and unreality.”

“Like a Night Valian,” Carlos says, “Better yet, the Voice of Night Vale himself. The most influential one in the vicinity.”

Kevin nods.

“It got you, what happened?”

“I was the brother.” Kevin shrugs. “I was bound to be good for something.”

“So – what, you ended up in Desert Bluffs?”

Kevin gestures towards his head. “It gets – blurry, this part. I remember growing up in Desert Bluffs, but I know it’s not real,” he says, “I grew up in Night Vale, but the memories are so _clear.”_

“Sets of memories, yes, you said.”

“There was a prophecy too,” Kevin says, “I have vague impressions of my Desert Bluffs family, but if I think, I can’t actually remember them. No faces. No names. Just impressions. Like a half-remembered dream.”

“False memories? From the light?”

Shrug again.

“And then?”

“And then Strexcorp. Which, even more confusing, because I thought I brought the light with me, but it’s suddenly manifesting into another company.” Kevin slouches forwards and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, Kevin. Just rest yourself for now. You’re tearing your stitches,” Carlos says. He runs through the story in his head, tries to piece together what little he knows from observation and from the recent events in Night Vale. “Cecil doesn’t remember,” he says.

Kevin stiffens. After a while, he nods. “The universe will always smooth out its anomalies. Night Vale especially.”

Carlos nearly laughs. “For such an anomalous town.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, “Home sweet home.”

* * *

 

Kevin keeps on poking at his scars once his cheeks have healed.

Carlos is still no closer to finding an old oak door, and his calls to Cecil are still out of linear time, but they’re talking. That counts for something, at least. Kevin can’t talk to Cecil. He wants to, Carlos knows, but Kevin remembers nothing of what he’s done under Strexcorp, remembers half-blurry memories of his Desert Bluffs life, and remembers clearly only his childhood up until the Smiling God took him.

Cecil only knows Kevin as a crazed murderer.

Kevin doesn’t sit close to Carlos when Carlos calls Cecil, surprisingly. Carlos is thankful, of course, he’d been ready to discuss privacy with Kevin and all, but Kevin has been gracious about backing off himself. It makes Carlos want to hand him the phone and say, “Talk to your brother.”

Cecil sounds like he’s breaking down, sometimes, and it makes Carlos’ chest hurt. It doesn’t help that the caring for Kevin’s injuries and his fascination with the Desert Otherworld have taken his attention, and he only remembers to look for a door whenever Kevin mentions it.

He finds something else though – he finds an underground have with triangles on it, and he gets out as fast as he could, before he can hear the Shepard tone of the Smiling God approaching. Kevin says that’s what it sounds like. Like hysteria and pure evil.

“It destroys because it can,” Kevin says, “Why else does it need a reason?”

Once, Carlos asks Cecil, “Do you have a brother?”

Cecil goes silent, and when he speaks, he stutters over his syllables, trying to remember something he can’t.

Eventually, he says, “No.”


End file.
